


A Pawn in the Game

by StraightFromFantasyland



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Big Brother Fíli, Brotherly Fili, Durin Family, Durin Feels, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Torture, Whump, hurt!Kili
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:59:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4027756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StraightFromFantasyland/pseuds/StraightFromFantasyland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BOOK/MOVIE AU! Kili is taken captive by orcs and the company is made to believe that he is dead. Grief-stricken, they must carry on their quest without him. But Kili still lives and the orcs have no intention of killing him, instead they have a far more sinister plan for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken

 

 _No, Thorin_.

 

Kili watched with dread as Thorin was tossed through the air like a broken doll, landing in a heap with a dull thud. He was still clinging to the tree which had fallen on its side and was hanging perilously over the edge of the cliff with hundreds of feet of blackness bellow it, being held in place only by its strong roots. Kili’s heart thumped like a drum in his chest, he could hear his heartbeats over the sounds of the roaring flames and the cries of the rest of the company as they clung desperately to the branches, feet kicking uselessly in the air. But it wasn’t the prospect of falling, or of being burnt, not even of being torn to shreds by the snapping jaws of wargs that sent waves of panic up his spine. It was watching his uncle, who now pushed himself shakily up onto his elbows, struggle to fight the gigantic pale orc, Azog the Defiler.

 

The orc was still sat on the back of his fearsome white warg, with a foul sneer on his scarred face. It made Kili’s stomach lurch. There was so much evil and hate in the creature’s eyes and they bore into Thorin like daggers. Hungry for blood and the taste of stolen life. Azog’s pale skin glowed orange in the firelight and his teeth glinted as he looked down upon Thorin with an evil grin. The survival instinct that kept Kili clinging to the tree was abruptly overruled by the uncontrollable impulse to protect his uncle. Kili knew that his inexperience in battle meant that he would be no match for Azog, but if he could distract the orc long enough for Thorin to regain his composure and strength then it would feel like less of a gamble. He would not stay up the tree and watch his uncle be killed while they were still so early into their quest. Kili’s mind was set. He pushed himself up and walked down the tree trunk, which lay almost entirely flat, with determined strides, releasing his sword from its sheath on his hip. The blade glinted in the firelight. He didn’t listen to the voice of his brother as Fili called his name, his world consisted of just three things; himself, Thorin and Azog. And by the end of this, if it all went right, there would only be him and Thorin.

 

Thorin reached for his sword which had fallen from his grasp, a dull pain throbbing in his side. He clutched at his ribs with a quiet wince as a waft of rancid air blew on the back of his neck. The white warg was glowering down at him, yellow eyes shining and mouth watering hungrily. A growl emanated from deep within the beast’s throat as it waited for its master to allow it to feast on the dwarf. Azog could feel the ravenous desire of the hound as the warg’s chest swelled and shrank with deep breaths. The corners of his mouth pulled upward. But Thorin’s face was a steely mask, and he simply stared past the warg’s head to lock eyes with him in a defiant and hateful glare. He would like nothing more than to relieve the orc’s shoulders of its hideous head, like he had his grandfather. Revenge dominated the exiled king’s thoughts, and it would be sweet. But Azog had no intention of dying that night and raised his sword, the dirty blade reflecting the glow of the flames. He snarled something in Black Speech, teeth bared like a wild animal. His attention was fixed so intensely on the dwarf that he didn’t notice the figure darting at him through the dark and smoke.

 

Suddenly he was propelled off his warg and wrestled to the ground, his weapon landing on the rock with a clatter, by another, much younger dwarf. Azog growled and flung the dwarf away with one strong swish of his arm before moving to pin him down, angered that the he’d taken away his opportunity to slay Thorin. Kili was pushed into the ground, Azog’s weight preventing him from escaping. But he kept his features impassive, save for the glint of loathing in his brown eyes. He felt hatred bubble in his stomach for Azog and all that he had done to his family and the line of Durin, his uncle’s hatred of the vile creature had imprinted itself into Kili’s consciousness. Azog studied the dwarf in his grasp with a grim fascination. He was very youthful and daring, and different to the others; he was much smaller in build, Azog could feel the bones of the dwarf through his thick, fur-lined coat. He appeared more like an elf than a dwarf, in both features and slightness. But none-the-less, he was dwarf scum and was to be eradicated. With a scowl he reached to retrieve his sword from where it had fallen. Kili saw the blade flash and tried to squirm away with alarm, groaning as he tried to move away, but Azog’s grip was iron. The sword glinted again and, with a growl, Kili kicked Azog in the chest with his heavy boots, sending the orc stumbling backwards. Kili pushed himself onto his feet and twirled his own weapon in his hands, beckoning Azog to attack. He may have been young and with none of the experience of Thorin or Dwalin or many of the other elder dwarves, but his skill with the blade was excellent.

 

Azog eyed him with frustration before darting forward with a lash of his sword. There came the loud clang of colliding weapons as Kili rose his sword above him to block the blow, he twisted his blade and forced the orc’s towards the ground. Azog pulled it away and bore his eyes into the young dwarf before him, his stare dark and calculating. Kili drummed his fingers on the handle of his sword as he pointed it at Azog who lunged forward at him again with an animal-like snarl, slashing at Kili’s arm when he rose it to elevate his own sword in defence. The dwarf bit back a cry, he could feel the sting of the flesh wound and the warmth of blood pooling under his sleeve, he could feel it running down the underside of his arm. He jumped back and ducked to avoid Azog’s next swipe, he could feel the air move as the sword passed inches above his head.

 

Thorin’s heart froze. _What was he doing?_ He watched as his reckless, senseless nephew faced down the pale orc alone. Was Kili really foolish enough to think he could defeat Azog by himself? A mixture of fear and rage surged through him as he grabbed the handle of his sword and jumped to his feet with a growl of frustration. The embers of the fire fell around him, ash coming to rest on his shoulders like sizzling hot snowflakes. The edges of the cinders still glowing a blazing orange. He could feel the heat of the flames on his face as figures began darting through the smoke with shouts and glinting weapons. They dashed forward, swinging their swords and axes at advancing orc and wargs, delivering heavy blows with loud cries. Dwalin came to stand beside Thorin and gave him a concerned stare which he shrugged off with a curt “I’m fine.” Dwalin sighed, knowing all too well the stubbornness of his king, he wouldn’t accept aid until the battle was over. He followed Thorin’s gaze.

“What is he doing?” He said, with something between a gasp and a growl, staring at Kili who swung his sword, whith a fierce flash of reflecting firelight, at Azog, who blocked his attempt and pushed him away.

“Being an _idiot_.” Thorin spat. He pushed past Dwalin with a low growl, eyes glued on his youngest nephew. He griped the handle of his sword so tight that his knuckles turned white. Stupid. Irresponsible. Reckless. _As always_. From the corner of his eyes Thorin caught the familiar shine of golden hair amongst the shapes of the fight. Fili was darting towards his brother, throwing all oncoming orcs out of his path with a fierce lash of his sword. Nothing was going to get in his way. Nobody but Thorin who abruptly changed course. He already had one nephew acting foolishly, he did not need the other to do the same.

 

Fili’s attention was completely fixed on Kili, facing down the pale orc alone. He watched as his brother effortlessly sidestepped the swipe of Azog’s scimitar, it didn’t even brush the edges of his jacket. Kili twirled his blade in two circular motions, in the taunting way he always challenged his opponents. No doubt the action was coupled with his roguish smile. Fili had seen them both enough when they practised fighting with weapons back home, and they had always managed to incite another blow. Which Azog didn’t hold back from; he elevated his weapon above his head before bringing it down in a quick, sweeping movement. The blade whistled in the air before being met by Kili’s own sword with a clang. Fili suddenly lost his momentum as he was pulled roughly back and to a standstill, he could feel something tugging at the collar of his coat. He roughly pulled away and spun, weapon ready, expecting to see an orc stood before him. It wasn’t an orc. It was Thorin, looking at him sternly, shaking his head.

“Why did you stop me?” He probed, “We need to help Kili!”

“ _We_ don’t have to do anything. _You_ stay here, _I_ will go and help your brother.” Thorin’s tone was final but Fili opened his mouth to protest, as much as he trusted his uncle, he would feel better if he was fighting beside Kili too. But any words were quickly blocked by a loud shriek. It was not a sound that belonged to any dwarf, orc or warg. The pair’s eyes flicked upwards to see huge shadows coming towards them through the smoke and light of the fire and oncoming sunrise. They swooped down, the air around them churning and blowing, fallen leaves scuttled across the floor and the flames swayed and flickered. Instinctively, Thorin grabbed his nephew’s wrist and pulled Fili behind him. He watched the shadows with apprehension, sword held tightly in his grasp.

 

Eagles. The shapes were eagles, huge birds with each wing longer than almost two wargs and with great talons like thick, curved blades, glinting dangerously. They soared and dived, throwing wargs and orcs through the air, picking them up and dropping them from a great height. Then the great beasts’ attention switched to the dwarves as they began picking them from the ground, with no small amount of wriggling and cursing, and letting them fall onto the feathered back of another. Confusion overcame Thorin, brows knitting together. Until he noticed Gandalf. The grey clad wizard was perched upon the back of a bird with brown-tipped feathers, his features calm, his posture relaxed. He had sent for them, realising the peril facing the company. Thorin could not help his frustration, did the wizard not trust them, not trust _him_? But it was too late as now most of the party were in the air, away from the dangers of the mountainside.

 

Azog kicked at Kili while his attention was on the huge birds, foot landing against the dwarf’s chest with a crack of the ribs. Kili cried out as he tumbled through the air, collapsing on the hard ground. The force of the blow left him winded and gasping for breath, the world was suddenly a spinning land of blurring and intermixing colours, all sound muffled beneath a loud ringing that struck his skull like knives. He squeezed his eyes shut and dragged in a deep, painful breath. Azog eyed the eagles with infuriation, they were making easy work of the orcs, tossing them through the air like lifeless corpses, and taking the dwarves in their hold, high off the ground and far away from where any orc blade could reach. The dwarves were getting away. Azog roared an animal-like roar, shaking his fist at the creatures. He heard Kili cough, heaving in deep, rasped breaths. That one would not get away. He approached the young dwarf and pointed the tip of his blade at his chest, at the area above his thundering heart.

 

“Kili!” Fili pulled away from his uncle’s grasp and moved towards Kili, laying on the ground, propped up on shaking elbows, trying to edge away from Azog’s sword. Kili’s eyes were wide and his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts. Thorin made after Fili, ready to impale the pale orc, to slice off his remaining hand. Sweat had built up on his brow from the searing heat of the flames. He would have been thankful for the sudden breeze upon the back of his neck had it not been followed by giant talons gripping him across his middle and lifting him, as he ran, from the hard ground. It was a strange sensation to suddenly have nothing beneath his feet, for them to kick at open air, and to see the land shrink beneath him.

 

Fili was clutched in the clawed foot of the same eagle beside him, struggling against the tightness of the hold. But it wasn’t the fear of suddenly being lifted into the air, or of what the eagle was going to do to him that caused his attempts for freedom. It was his brother shrinking below him as they got higher, Azog still stood above him, looking down at Kili with a cruel smirk.

“Kili!” He rose his fist to hit at the eagle’s leg, he thumped at it hard, desperation surging through him like a swollen river. Then they were free falling, hearts feeling like they were incapable of keeping up with the rest of their bodies as they fell. Thorin reached for Fili as they were in mid-air, pulling him close and holding him to his chest. Then there was something beneath them, something warm and alive, as they landed in a mass of windblown feathers. But Fili felt no relief as he scrambled to the edge of the bird, Thorin pulling at his jacket, fearing his nephew, in his panic, would fall again and would this time plummet back down to the earth. Fili’s heart stopped mid beat. Azog had lowered his weapon and the remaining orcs descended on Kili like ants to a piece of honey. They grabbed at him as he hopelessly struggled against them, trying to back away, swiping at them with fist and sword and attempting to land failed kicks. “Why aren’t the eagles helping him!?” Fili cried, his whole body beginning to tremble with alarm. He switched his gaze momentarily to Gandalf, whose eagle was flying, unfazed by the dwarf’s desperate screams, beside his and Thorin’s. “Gandalf! Make them turn around! Make them go back for him!” But the wizard simply looked quickly over his shoulder and then stared at Fili with expressionless features. The eagles had a set course, they had no intention of going back. Fili turned his head back to the vanishing sight, in time to witness the orcs turn Kili onto his front, strip him of all his weapons and bind his hands behind his back, before wrenching him roughly up into a standing position. Even from this distance Fili could see that his little brother was looking straight at him, watching him get further and further away. “We can’t leave him! KILI!” Fili’s voice cracked and tears began to swell in his eyes, blurring his vision. The eagles weren’t going to change direction, no matter how much he yelled and pleaded. He reached out a hand, as though he would be able to reach Kili. But his brother was simply dragged away into the trees and out of sight.

 

“KILI! NO!”


	2. Alone

They must have been trudging through the forest, the tip of a sword pressing into Kili’s back, keeping him marching forward, for more than an hour and he had finally given up struggling against the orcs. There were too many of them, and he had been bound and stripped of his weapons. His eyes shifted briefly around him to see his bow, arrows and sword slung over the back of a particularly grotesque looking orc, with gnarled features and only one eye. His knives stuffed into its belt. Kili’s stomach twisted with hatred and anger. He wanted so much to fight against them, to lash out and scream all manner of vile curses at them, but that, he knew, would only result in the orcs becoming angered and they wouldn’t hesitate to show him their infuriation. His body ached enough as it was. Until he could come up with a real plan he would bite his tongue and go where they told him to in order to avoid provoking them. But even so, he clenched and unclenched his fists – which had been tied behind his back- moving his wrists in circular motions, in an attempt to loosen the bonds and relieve the agonising tightness. But the rope was thick and unyielding, it dug into his flesh with every movement. Kili could feel it biting into him, gradually tearing his burning skin. He kept his head down, staring up at Azog, who rode at the front of the troop on his white warg, through the gaps of his hair. Every now and again the orc would turn to monitor him, but Kili didn’t look away, simply shot Azog his most venomous glare, letting the vile creature just how much he loathed him. Azog would just sneer at him and look away, obviously the feeling was mutual. Kili wondered what the pale orc’s plan for him was. Azog _must_ have had a plan, or Kili wouldn’t still be breathing. He had heard tales of what orcs did to their prisoners, the brutal torture and malicious emotional trauma. He knew he would suffer the same. The orcs would interrogate him, ask him questions about Thorin and the company, put him through agony until he snapped and spilled out all he knew. _No_ , Kili shook his head, they could do whatever they wanted but he would keep the information behind sealed lips. They wouldn’t break him. He straightened his shoulders and held his head high, altering his features to wear his most resolute, steely expression. Forcing the impression of indestructible tenacity and courage. But that was all it was, an _impression_. For deep down fear surged within him. For the first time since he left his home in Ered Luin, he was afraid. He was afraid because he was alone, trapped and striped of his weapons, surrounded by orcs that could kill him at any moment. But mainly he was afraid because there was no Fili to give him a reassuring nod or smile. If his brother had been with him the situation wouldn’t have felt so grim.

 

_Fili_. His heart stung. Where was his brother now? How far away had the eagles taken him? Kili had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent them from watering. How much he yearned for the strong, comforting presence of his older brother. To even feel Fili brush up against him in a small act of reassurance. To hear the sounds of his even, steady footsteps behind his own. To hear Fili whisper comforting words that only they could make out. But he was alone. Completely and terrifyingly alone. Kili dragged in a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking hands. The company would come for him, he knew they would. Fili would _never_ allow them to abandon him. All Kili had to do was stay quiet and compliant and try not to give any cocky retorts that would anger his captors. But the young dwarf was impetuous and impatient, he didn’t do well with being confined to one place for too long and had an overwhelming compulsion to answer back to snide comments and unpleasant individuals. It was something that he’d always had, something he was forever being scolded for. It was something that he’d have to bury until help came.

 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

They _left_ him! Why did they _leave_ him? He was alone, _Kili was alone_!

 

Fili had struggled and pulled against his uncle’s firm grip, his chest heaving with sobs and gasped breaths, for a long while after the billowing smoke and flames had vanished into the distance. Fili had shouted his brother’s name over and over, demanding that they turn around until his voice was hoarse and his throat stung. His eyes burnt and blurred with tears and there was a pounding in his skull like hammers. His head began to swim as a million different thoughts crowded his mind, the image of the orcs swarming and congregating around his younger brother, who desperately tried to fight them off, flashing in his vision over and over again. He shook his head, _this wasn’t right_! There he was, perched on the back of the eagle traveling towards safety, whilst his little brother was in the possession of an orc pack, led by the pale orc, the one whose name made their uncle’s fist clench into tight balls, and chest constrict with fury. Azog. Who no doubt had plans for Kili that Fili didn’t dare comprehend. And with every flap of the eagle’s huge wings he was getting further and further away from him, further and further away from being able to protect him. _This wasn’t right_. At last Fili’s fighting ceased and he collapsed into Thorin’s hold, defeated and scared. He clutched tightly to the eagle’s soft feathers in a vain attempt to stop his hands from shaking. Thorin wrapped his arms around his nephew’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. He listened to Fili’s heavy breaths and felt how he trembled from head to toe. He could feel the panic emanating from him like the icy waves of a rushing, winter river.

 

Fili couldn’t remember the rest of the journey, all he knew was that the sun had risen and Thorin was still clutching onto him when the eagles began to slow and descend, dipping swiftly in a motion that would have made Fili’s heart plummet in his chest, if it didn’t already feel like lead. The birds flew towards a lonely, rocky peak, surrounded in all directions by forest and grassy planes. If it wasn’t for the circumstance, Fili would have found it a breath-taking sight. How the morning sun shone with golden rays on green and russet leaves, dancing off a thin, winding stream. Even from this height, he could smell the sweet scent of the woodland below. Finally the eagles came to rest on the peak and the dwarves clambered from their backs, glad to have their feet on the ground once again. Ori went to pat his bird with gratitude but suddenly felt very unnerved by the animal’s huge beady eyes staring at him. Dori swiftly pulled his brother away from it. The bird’s head jerked to the side before it spread its wings again and lifted from the ground. Fili was the last to dismount, needing to be coaxed and pulled down by Thorin and Dwalin, as he continued to sit stiffly on the bird’s back, fingers still curled into its feathers.

“Come on lad.” Said Dwalin, reaching up his arms as though Fili was a child, “I’m sure the animal has had enough of having someone on its back.” But the blonde dwarf didn’t move, his mind still leagues away and overflowing with terrifying thoughts. Dwalin heard Thorin sigh from beside him.

“Fili,” the king said sternly, “come down now. _Now Fili._ ” The bird was starting to become impatient, shifting restlessly on its thin legs and folded wings twitching, as the others hovered or circled above. They were silhouetted against the sun and casted the oddest shadows on the ground. They cawed loudly, eager to move off. Eventually Fili nodded and shifted to slide down the side of the eagle, careful not to pull out any of its feathers. Thorin held a hand out to steady him as he landed, which was just as well as he swayed slightly upon impact with the rocky ground. The force stung the soles of his feet. Not waiting for the dwarves to step away, the bird immediately pushed off the ground and flew quickly up towards its friends. Its flapping wings sending a torrent of air towards them, it blew through their hair and made the edges of their jackets sway and flap. They rose their arms in front of their faces to stop pieces of dirt from blowing into their eyes.

 

 

“Where are they going? Are they going to get Kili?” Fili spoke with quiet desperation, his throat still stinging too much for him to raise it higher than a mumble. His fingers twitched at his sides as he watched the birds disappear to the east. Not the direction they came from. Panic surged within him again. His eyes locked on Thorin who stared at the ground beneath his anxious glare. There was a silence, a loud, unbearable silence and nobody seemed able to meet Fili’s eyes. It was Gandalf who spoke finally.

“No.” His voice was regretful and low, he drummed his fingers on his staff and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “No, they are not.” Fili span on his heels to face the old wizard, his shoulders rising and falling with quick breaths and hands balled into tight fists at his sides.

“Why? Why didn’t they rescue him like they did us? Why did they just …”

“There was nothing they could do.” Gandalf tried to keep his voice steady. “Kili was already overwhelmed by the orcs, there was no guarantee they would have been able to reach him.”

“So they just left him behind? They could have turned around for him!”

“No, they couldn’t. I asked them to bring us here and only here. They would do no more than what was asked of them. And they wouldn’t risk it.”

“ _Risk?_ What risk? They were _huge_ birds and there was so many. There would have been no risk!”

“My dear boy …”

“ _Do not_ call me that.” Fili spat. Gandalf straightened his back and stared at the young dwarf, his mouth a thin line. The blonde's fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles had turned white and his fingernails dug into his palms. Fili’s usual calm demeanour was cracking, anger threatening to burst through and overcome him. Thorin saw how the oncoming fury made his nephew’s balled fists shake at his sides as he tried to keep it at bay, not wanting to snap in front of everyone.

“Fili,” he said quietly, gripping Fili’s elbow, feeling how it trembled. “It’s alright.”

“ _Alright?”_ Fili spun to look at him. Thorin’s breath caught at his nephew’s stare. His blue eyes were alive with fear and panic and anger, a dangerous mix that, with every heaved breath, threatened to overwhelm him. “How is it alright? The orcs have my brother!” Thorin reached out to place a hand on his shoulder but Fili hit it away. “You shouldn’t have stopped me when I was running to him! I could have helped!”

“ _Or_ the orcs could have got both of you.”

“But at least he wouldn’t be alone! He’s _alone_ Thorin, alone with _them._ With … with Azog. If he finds out who Kili is, if they find out he’s your nephew, they’ll kill him! Or in the very least torture him for information. We cannot let them do that to him!” Fili’s voice cracked, the prospect of his little brother being harmed, with him too far away to prevent it or offer comfort, made his heart hurt and stomach tighten. “We need to go back.”

“We have no idea where they’ve gone, they could be anywhere.” Dwalin said, eyes flicking quickly back in the direction they had just travelled. He folded his arms over his chest and steeled his features, not wanting to let the uneasiness show on his face. Orcs moved fast, especially if they were traveling with Wargs.

“Exactly! We have to go _now_ before they get too far away.”

“We have to rest, to build our energy back up.” Thorin said, ignoring the look Fili suddenly flashed him. He didn’t want to see the look of disbelief, he didn’t want to look at those panicked blue eyes. Instead he glanced about him, letting his gaze travel over the rest of the company. He was right, they needed to rest, they all seemed exhausted, their eyes dark and sunken with fatigue. The events of the last day, the Storm Battle, Goblin Town and the fight with the Orcs, had taken their toll.“We will take some hours to rest, find something to eat, get some sleep. Recover.”

“Eat? Sleep? Recover? Do you think the orcs will let Kili do any of those things? No!”

“Fili.” Thorin said firmly, “None of us are fit enough to begin the trek back right now. We will find your brother, I promise, but we are not leaving until the morning. When everyone is well.”

“The morning? That’s not good enough!” Fili bellowed, suddenly all of the anger that had been building up began to burst from him in a furious wave that made everyone stiffen, not used to this unfamiliar tone. “He could be _dead_ by morning! You _hate_ Azog! He’s already killed your grandfather,” Thorin felt a stab of pain at the memory of Thror’s demise. The image that had haunted his nightmares for as long as he could remember, that had bittered him and hardened his heart “Caused your father to disappear and now he has your nephew! Are you really going to leave Kili with him for so long?! You know the type of things those beasts do to their prisoners.” Fili ran his hands through his blonde hair, tugging at the golden strands. “Kili isn’t even of age yet! He’s still little more than a child!”

“Yes, a child!” Thorin snapped, suddenly feeling his own rage. “A stupid, impulsive child who recklessly and idiotically thought he could take on Azog alone! He brought this on himself, if he had stopped to think then he wouldn’t be in this mess. Perhaps this will show him what being reckless can result in!” There was a quiet and simultaneous gasp from the group. Then, with a loud, animal growl, a sound unlike any Fili had ever made before, he lunged for Thorin, fist hitting him square in the jaw and sending him to the ground.

“How dare you say those things! How _dare_ you!” Fili saw red as rage overcame him and moved to pin his uncle where he lay, taken aback by hisnephew’s uncharacteristic outburst. “You heartless bastard! That’s Kili, your _nephew_ , my _b_ r _other_ you’re talking about! Your family!” He balled his fists up in Thorin’s jacket and shook him and pushed him against the rock. “How can you say that?” Fili had never felt anger so strong. It made him tremble and feel sick, it clouded his judgement and forced out any other emotion. But he simply didn’t understand how his uncle could say something so cruel. _Perhaps this will show him what being reckless can result in_. The words resonated in his ears and they hurt. In that moment he _hated_ Thorin, wanted to hit him again. He raised his arm, ready to bring his fist down again, but something stopped him, a hand grabbed his wrist a strong arm snaked itself around his waist. He was pulled away, still screaming at his uncle, his voice venomous and full of fury.

 

 

It was Dwalin, holding him close to his chest, his hold so tight that it ached. But Fili still struggled and kicked and cursed.

“Stop it!” Dwalin hissed in his ear. He had _never_ seen Fili act this way, and it scared him to see. Fili was usually so composed, he had never been so plainly enraged. It wasn’t right. “Come on now,” Dwalin tried to keep his voice level, “getting angry is not going to help.” Fili’s fighting ceased and he stopped trying to resist his hold, but Dwalin still held onto him, feeling how his chest heaved with ragged, deep breaths.

“He did it to protect you! You’re his uncle, but he looks up to you as if you were his father! He did it because he _loves_ you and couldn’t bear to see you get injured!” Fili shot Thorin his most venomous glare, “And it is plain to see that you do not feel the same way.” Fili’s struggling had completely stopped and Dwalin’s grip slackened. Thorin slowly got to his feet, shrugging away Balin and Gloin who had attempted to help, seeing how their king winced with pain. He stood stiffly, looking at his nephew, the blonde was furious and red faced.

“Are you suggesting that I do not love him?”

“It’s obvious.” Fili wasn’t shouting now, and pulled away from Dwalin who eyed him nervously, prepared to reach out and grab him again if he returned for another assault. “If you truly cared for Kili you wouldn’t think twice before going back for him, instead you stand there saying that he _deserves_ this. How could you even _think_ that?” Fili squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments, sucking in deep, steadying breaths. With each intake of air he allowed himself to calm slightly. But against his closed lids he saw the image of Kili being dragged away by the orcs, alone and weaponless. “I will not rest knowing that my little brother is in the hands of orcs.” Opening his eyes he turned to stare at the rest of the company, who all seemed pale and wide eyed, not used to his explosion of anger. He was the calm, rational one. The last person they’d expect this behaviour from. Many of them could not meet his gaze. “Dori, Nori.” He said quietly. Both dwarves gulping at the sound of their names being spoken by the enraged prince. “What if it had been Ori who had been taken? Would you be happy to leave him alone to suffer?” Dori didn’t even need to consider it. He would never condemn either of his younger brothers to the pain that Kili was undoubtable going to endure. He placed a hand on Ori’s shoulder and squeezed it. The colour had vanished from red haired dwarf’s cheeks at the very prospect of being a prisoner of the orcs. He gulped.

“No.” Dori said, quietly but definitely. He would sacrifice himself before he let harm befall his youngest brother.

“Exactly. We all have our family with us on this journey. And mine, the most important person in the _world_ to me, and the person I swore to protect, has been taken.” Fili turned to face Thorin, whose posture had slumped. “Please Thorin,” He begged, “we _cannot_ abandon him.” Thorin studied his nephew, noticing how his hands still trembled at his sides and his breathing remained quicker than usual. There was so much desperation in those blue eyes. And there was also fear. Fili was _never_ afraid, or if he ever was he never let it show so plainly on his face. But that was for his brother’s benefit. If Kili saw his strong, brave older brother afraid then he would know something was very wrong. And terror would grip him like a vice. Everything Fili did was for him. But now he didn’t need to hide his fear. Thorin also saw how tired Fili had become, suddenly looking like he hadn’t slept in days. The rest of the company also looked close to collapse, their exhausted legs struggling to keep them standing, desperate to sit down, to lay down and rest. The dwarves and the hobbit, and even Gandalf, appeared to have aged some years with fatigue. What use, Thorin thought, would they be in fighting the orcs again in this state?

“We will go and find Kili.” He paused, knowing his next words could send his nephew into another fit of rage. He straightened his back. “In the morning.” But Fili didn’t get angry, he didn’t lash out or raise his voice. He heard the finality in Thorin’s voice, knowing his mind was set. Instead, with his jaw tight and fists curled, he strode towards Thorin, stopping when they were mere inches apart and stared into his brown eyes.

“If _anything_ happens to him,” He said slowly, “I will _never_ forgive you.”


	3. Counting Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, I can't remember how long it's been since I've uploaded on here! I'm 55 chapters in on fanfiction.net so I'm going to do some quick-fire uploads on here to keep up! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and forgive my absence! 
> 
> Also,anything written in bold & Italics is Black Speech.

 

The forest had grown thicker by the time the orcs stopped. The dense leaves above them meshed together like a tent, only thin rays of sunlight penetrating through to the ground. Kili tilted his face upwards to feel the brief warmth on his skin, he guessed that it must have been around late afternoon, the sun beams had that particular golden glow that came a few hours before sunset. All he knew for sure was that his legs were aching, he was exhausted. He had stumbled a few times on the trek, his head thick and weary, over rocks and broken branches, for which he received stern shoves in the small of his back, pushing him roughly forward. He swallowed down his frustration, balling his fists to stop them connecting with an orc's jaw. Deep down he scolded himself for not fighting against them, for letting them march him through this unfamiliar and dark landscape without so much as an elbow in one of their ribs. No. He _needed_ to stay quiet. The more he fought the more he'd get himself hurt. He was in enough trouble as it was. The Orcs reached a narrow clearing. Large enough to make camp but small enough so that the high leaves still provided shelter from the sun, hiding away most of the sky.

" _ **We will stop here**_." Azog said, the white warg bellow him coming to a halt, sniffing the air with her wet nose. She pawed at the ground as her rider dismounted, running his hand through her thick fur. Azog breathed in the scent of the forest. The pine was too sweet, it stung the inside of his nose. He preferred the rocky mountain side, deep caves cut into cliffs, where the air was cool and acrid. He grunted, this would have to do.

Kili didn't notice how much his legs shook until he was stood still, he wanted to fall to the ground, to sit. To sleep. It was all he could do to remain standing. He focused on what was around him, he counted the orcs as they shrugged off their weapons. Twelve, with one warg each. The rest had been thrown off the cliffs by the eagles, or left injured on the rocks. **_"_**

**_Gurlak. Bring the prisoner to me."_** Kili didn't understand what the pale Orc said, but the sound of the Black Speech made his stomach knot and a shiver run up his spine. Azog's icy blue eyes dug into him like daggers, they made his breath catch in his throat. Suddenly he was shoved forward by the one-eyed orc, who snigered at him, flashing yellow and rotten teeth, and thrown to his knees. His legs stung as they met with the ground. He heard Azog before he saw him. Heard his heavy footsteps approaching and his deep, growling breaths. Kili gulped and dragged in a deep breath before slowly looking up at his captor. He wanted to hide his fear, to put on a mask of courage and hide behind it. But as he looked into Azog's scarred face, features twisted in a foul sneer, he knew the façade was failing, crumbling on the ground around him. Azog crouched down and reached a hand towards Kili who tried to flinch away, edging back where he was knelt. But Gurlak pressed a hand firmly down on his shoulder, keeping him where he was. Azog wrapped his fingers around Kili's jaw, tilting the dwarf's head back to get a better look at his prisoner. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Kili. He wasn't built much like the other dwarfs, he was far more slender with a thin face and delicate features. Azog supposed that he could squeeze his jaw and feel it crack in his palm, but then he would be of no use. He locked eyes with Kili and saw them full of anxiety and fear, but he saw that they were also young and hopeful. Azog sniggered. He would crush that hope, and leave Kili feeling more than just fear. The dwarf would be begging for death by the time they were finished. He would be easy to break. " ** _Tie him up."_**

* * *

 

Fili was restless. He had paced back and forth, under the cautious stares of the company, until his legs ached and he collapsed down the side of a tree trunk, fingers tugging at the edge of his sleeves. Subconsciously pulling at a loose thread, he stared into the dancing flames of the campfire. He didn't feel its orange glow on his cheeks, he only felt the cold breeze on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Fili felt lonely. There may have been thirteen others in the camp, speaking in hushed murmurs and flashing him quick, sympathetic smiles, but without Kili beside him he felt very much alone. He was used to sitting side-by-side with his brother, close enough for their shoulders to touch and to share each other's warmth. He was used to Kili whispering jokes into his ear or humming a familiar tune that would make Fili's tense muscles relax. But instead he sat apart from the others, not wanting to listen to their weak and strained reassurances. They were meaningless to him and he would believe none of them until Kili was safely back in his arms. The sight of the sunset caused a nauseating feeling to grow in his stomach, it hurt like he was being crushed and it made his breaths come out quick and strained. As the world grew darker, so did his thoughts. Kili, he knew for sure, would not be enjoying such friendly company and would not be huddled up to the warmth of a glowing fire, the scent of Bombur's cooking drifting on the air. Was he hurt? Images of Kili slumped on the ground, blood running down the side of his face, features crumpled in pain, flooded his mind. Images of the Orcs crowding him, prodding him with swords and kicking at him with heavy leather and steel boots. _No. No_. Fili shook his head and tugged at his hair in a vain attempt to banish the notions from his head. _He'll be fine. He's strong and brave. He'll be alright._ He wasn't convincing himself. He knew for a fact that his brother was brave, he wouldn't have so selflessly jumped to Thorin's aid if he wasn't. But he also knew that Kili was impetuous and easily antagonized. He would not hold back from barking profanities. Fili silently begged the open air that his brother would hold back his nature long enough for them to reach him. Otherwise, Fili feared for what they would - or would not - find.

The camp was tense, Thorin could feel it. Thirteen figures were sat anxiously around the campfire with hushed voices and downcast eyes. Any looks thrown towards Fili were brief, or avoided completely, images of his fierce anger still fresh in their minds. But Thorin, hands laced uncomfortably in his lap, kept his gaze firmly fixed on his nephew, watching him from over the top of the flames. Thorin knew that Fili's pretence of calm was masking an inner panic. He knew his nephew well, and could see what the others were incapable of noticing. He observed the disconnected look in Fili's blue eyes, how his mouth twitched as he bit down on his lip, how tightly his knees where drawn to his chest. Thorin wished that he could wrap an arm around him and pull him close, to mutter reassurances into his ear in an attempt to ease his troubled mind. But he knew that Fili didn't want him, he wanted his brother. So instead, the exiled king simply watched on, Balin and Dwalin sat either side of him.

"Thorin." Balin said, his voice low. Dwalin leaned forward to see his brother across Thorin. Knowing the tone of his voice. "You know it is at least a two day hike back to where we lost Kili. If not three. By the time we get there the orcs could be leagues away or … he could be …"

"You think we should just abandon him, leave him with them?" Though he didn't say it out loud, Dwalin's particular soft spot for Kili never went unseen as the younger prince grew up in Ered Luin. Images of Kili as a child, a giggling and overly energetic little dwarfling suddenly filled the warrior's mind. Images of the young prince climbing onto Dwalin's shoulders, of Kili asking him the story behind every battle scar, of the boy jumping onto pieces of furniture as he charged with a wooden sword, of big brown eyes full of curiosity and joy. The embodiment of innocence and hope. Dwalin's fists curled. "We have to try."

"I'm not saying to abandon him, I'm just saying that we should be … prepared for what we may discover." Balin silently scolded himself for his pessimism, he wanted nothing more than for the company to retrieve Kili safe and well, but he was only thinking logically. Beside him, he felt Thorin tense. The king's heart felt suddenly like lead as he looked down to the ground, Balin's words resonating in his head. _We should be prepared for what we may discover_. Then, like a great weight, Thorin suddenly regretted not leaving to find Kili sooner. He understood that the company needed rest, but he knew that his nephew needed him more. _Kili_. What if help reached him too late? What if there was nothing left of him apart from a broken, lifeless body. How could he possibly forgive himself if that is what they found? Thorin closed his eyes in an unspoken prayer. Begging Mahal to keep his young nephew protected until he could reach him.

"No, we'll find him … alive. We _have_ to. I could not bear to lose him." Even the very thought made his heart shatter. He looked back across the fire at Fili, still sat silent and disconnected. Then another thought gripped him, what would happen to Fili if they were to lose his brother? It would devastate him and leave him empty, to have the person he loved the most taken from him would destroy him. It would be like losing a part of himself, like having his very soul torn from his body. "I do not wish to see what would happen to Fili if we were to find anything else." Thorin said quietly.

The night was quiet, noticeably quiet, Fili thought, without Kili's infectious laugh echoing around the camp. The company sat in a rare and unpleasant silence. It was surprising how much Kili kept the group cheerful, it was only noticeable when he wasn't present. Fili sighed and let his head fall back against the side of the tree. Shivering slightly, he pulled his coat tighter around him. It failed to make him feel any warmer, to keep away the icy breath of the shadows. He stared up at the stars, watching them glistening across the heavens like silver torchlight. Each one trying to out shine the next. Fili wondered if his brother, wherever he was, was looking at the same stars, looking at them gleam against the black sky. He may have been far away, but at least he was beneath the same sky.

* * *

 

Kili had always thought of starlight as being a cold light, the stars seemed so distant and unreachable. He watched their silver glow through the gaps in the leaves above him and thought about how they always seemed so far away, detached from the rest of the world. They made Kili feel small, and in that moment, tied to a tree, he felt very small indeed. In an attempt to ignore the orcs and the throbbing pain in his bound wrists, Kili had tried to count the stars, focusing on them and not his captures as they went about their business and shot him hateful glares. But he'd reach a certain number and loose count. In the brief moment before the young dwarf attempted to start again, he felt his fear bubble inside him again, fear for what the morning would bring, once the orcs were well rested again. Kili wouldn't rest, he would stay awake and savour the peace of the cold night before the inescapable torment that sunrise would bring. This, he knew, was the calm before the storm. And he hoped he would be strong enough to endure it when it hit.


	4. The Slowest Sunrise

It was the longest night and the slowest sunrise Fili could ever recall as he lay on his back, eyes staring into the inky sky, waiting for sleep to come. But, despite his wearied mind and heavy eyelids, he remained awake, tossing and turning as the hours dragged slowly by. Every lingering moment beneath the dark sky, as the rest of the company slept around him, felt endless and Fili became more and more anxious. It was far easier, in the silence of the night, for Fili's mind to wander, for him to overthink every possible, terrifying thing his younger brother could be facing. He tried to ignore his own thoughts and squeezed his eyes shut willing, begging, sleep to come, to take him away from the loneliness and dread he was feeling. The worst part about that long and cheerless night was not feeling Kili's sleeping form beside him. They always slept beside one another, close enough so that, even in sleep, they were aware of each other's presence. How much Fili wished to reach out and pull his little brother close, to brush his untidy brown locks from his face as he slept, to watch his chest rise and fall in steady breaths. But instead the space beside him was cold and empty. Fili dragged his eyes away from unoccupied spot beside him and looked back up towards the sky, stars partially covered by thin grey clouds. Slowly, mercifully, the sun climbed from behind the mountains, carpeting the land with a golden veil. And with the light, the prince was filled with confidence, confidence that he would reach his brother, however far away he was, and that all would be as it should be – with Kili beside him once again.

"Get up." Fili growled, nudging Thorin in the side with his boot. Thorin stirred, feeling a throb of pain engulf his tender ribs, he batted Fili away with a wince. He looked up at his nephew silhouetted against the glow of the sunrise, his hands resting impatiently on his hips. Fili sighed and moved off to wake the other members of the company, walking with heavy steps and not taking much care to avoid kicking the rousing figures, who groaned and blinked against the light. Thorin pushed himself onto his elbows, seeing Fili's sleeping mat and blanket already packed. It seemed that he had been prepared for a long time. Thorin yawed, clasping a hand over his mouth. Sleep hadn't come easy, the sound of Fili's restless fidgeting kept him awake until even the owls, who had hooted steadily throughout the night, had fallen silent. But even when the exiled king had finally fallen asleep, his dreams were unsettling, driven by his inner panic, and sent his heart racing. As he slept, Thorin envisioned his youngest nephew suffering at the hands of Azog, of Azog stealing away yet another member of his family. So that when he was roused, he shared Fili's desire to begin the journey. Thorin pushed his hair from his face and stood stiffly up, biting down on his lip to prevent a groan from escaping him.

"Everyone," He said, as the company began to wake, rubbing their bleary eyes against the intense morning sun and stretching their arms above them, "pack your things away quickly. Soon we leave to find Kili." There came a hum of low groans from the still half asleep dwarfs, the prospect of beginning such a long journey before they had even had time to awaken properly was not an attractive one. Bofur, eyes still half shut, collapsed back onto his bedroll.

"Thorin." Balin's soft voice thwarted the King's advance to kick the hatted dwarf back up, "perhaps we should eat first, finish the leftovers from last night." Balin could see the anxiety in Thorin's eyes, his eagerness to retrieve his nephew shining. "And perhaps that would give us time to look over the map, to plan the quickest route." He suggested. Thorin's eyes closed in thought and he pinched the bridge of his nose, considering the elder dwarf's suggestion. His own desire to find Kili burned in his gut like a furnace, but, like he usually was, Balin was right. Thorin sighed and nodded.

"Very well," He said, "Bombur, see what is left from last night's meal."

"Thorin, we can't delay any longer," Fili strode over, gaze flicking from his uncle to Balin, "We have waited long enough. _Too_ long." Thorin observed Fili as he approached, his blue eyes were dark and weary. The night's rest seemed to have no effect on the young dwarf, who looked as exhausted as he had the previous day. The respite appeared to have been lost on him.

"Lad, we are going to look at the map, we need to plan a course." Balin said, pulling the folded map from his pocket, "we don't have the benefit of the eagles this time. Our journey will prove too lengthy if we take the wrong route."

"Fine," Fili nodded, "but please, let's do this quickly." He crossed his arms over his chest, "I don't think we can afford to wait."

 

* * *

 

 

Kili's shoulders were hunched as he sat, arms tied awkwardly around the thin trunk of a grey-barked tree, with his eyes lightly shut. He could see the gradual glow of steady sunrise below his lids as the sun fought its way through the leaves above. He hadn't slept, of that he was sure. For he had heard each snore and snort, each grunt and groan, of the orcs and wargs as they slept around him. As the cold night drew on, Kili, too far away from the campfire to feel any warmth, let his mind wander over mountains and rivers and forests, back to safer times in Ered Luin. Back when the only danger was falling from a tree and orcs where simply stories told by parents to make children behave. Kili sighed and let his eyes flick open. Whilst he had been lost in his musings of home, a mist had rolled through the trees, wrapping around the feet of the trunks. Glistening dew had settled on the foliage. Gurlak was watching him, sharpening one of his dirty knifes. Half of his face was still in shadow, making him seem even more intimidating. Kili wondered how long the orc had been observing him. The flash in Gurlak's remaining eye, when he noticed the dwarf rousing from his thoughts, unnerved him, and even when Kili looked away from him, he could feel the cruel stare boring into him. The rope keeping Kili restrained against the tree felt even tighter around his wrists than it had the previous day, he must have been subconsciously pulling against it as the lonely night lingered on. His arms had begun to ache as well, his shoulders in particular, as they remained uncomfortably wrapped around the tree. He had shifted his position often over the last few hours, switching from leaning as far forward as his bonds would allow to sitting up straight and pushing his back into the rough bark. He had stretched his legs out in front of him, pulled them to his chest and crossed them. But as time passed, none of this kept the aching at bay. At least the leafy ground was soft, he supposed.

When Azog woke, he woke with satisfied feeling in his gut; for he had taken prisoner one of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. And he was pleased, for he had not seized a stern warrior who would keep his secrets hidden, but rather a young, inexperienced dwarfling who would undoubtedly crack and reveal all he knew. Soon Azog would know the location of the exiled dwarven king. He strode through the camp, which was beginning to stir and come alive, and approached a smaller green skinned orc.

" ** _Lazgarl_** ," he said. Lazgarl started at his leader's voice, spinning where he was crouched. " ** _Let me see his weapons_** **.** " Lazgarl nodded and approached the dwarf's weapons, which had been tossed in a pile the night before. He passed Kili's sword to Azog first, who took it with narrowed eyes. It was a fine, well-crafted blade, he thought as he inspected the shining blade. He ran a finger along the sharp edge, the point cutting his pale skin, feeling the quality of the metal. He studied the geometric dwarfish designs on the silver base and head and gripped the leather-bound handle. It had a good weight to it, but was too small for his orcish hands. Next Lazgarl handed Azog the bow. As he looked upon this delicately made weapon, running a hand over the sweeping curves of the bow and plucking at the string, Azog's brow creased, he could not recall the last time he had witnessed a dwarven archer – bows were hardly a dwarf's weapon of choice, for they favoured swords and axes. It was peculiar, Azog thought, bows were considered the weapons of elves. Azog recalled how he thought the features and slightness of the young dwarf made him appear almost elven. Intrigued by this un-dwarven choice of weapon, Azog looked over at Kili who had been watching him inspect his equipment with a burning hatred – his weapons were special to him, for they were a gift given to him off his uncle before they left the Blue Mountains on their quest. Both he and Fili had been presented with new weapons that day. Dropping the items back to the ground Azog pointed at the dwarf, " ** _Bring him to me_**."


End file.
